Skymall

Flora sighed, closing the door behind her.  It had been a hectic week full of meetings, conferences, more meetings, visits to factories, motivational speakers of dubious quality, still more meetings and, curiously, a visit by the police regarding an escaped convict posing as a motivational speaker.  At some point during the day she had resolved to strip off her suit and mini-skirt the second she got home, but when she finally arrived she was too worn out to even put in the effort, only wanting to relax and not have to worry about anything.  She would have liked that very much, to the exclusion of most everything, which was probably why reality conspired to deprive her of it.

"Jordan," Flora said, lazily gesturing with one arm to the pile of opened cardboard boxes in the dining room. "What is this?"

"My Skymall shipment came in," Jordan replied, fiddling with a chrome and black plastic device with no visible purpose.

Part of Flora's brain told her she should be angry but she couldn't work up the energy. "Your Skymall shipment."

"Yeah, I've been unpacking most of it to try it out.  You wouldn't believe the sorts of things you find in there."  Picking up her empty glass, she walked into the kitchen, setting it down on the counter before plucking an orange out of the fruit basket and dropping it inside.  Taking a few steps back, she aimed the device at the glass and pulled the trigger.  The orange quivered before twisting and compressing, squeezing the juice from itself.  Jordan waved the device, smiling. "Remote juicer."

"A remote juicer."

"They have remote everything these days." She strode back into the dining room and dropped the juicer back into its box. "It's all Smartphone compatible, too.  You can make a glass of orange juice, polish your silverware and change your car's tires, all remotely, without even getting out of bed!" Jordan beamed. "Isn't that awesome?"

Flora had to admit that it was impressive, even if it was the biggest waste of technology she had seen since that factory visit on Tuesday. "Aside from buying things you don't need, what have you accomplished today?"

"Made thirty-five thousand dollars conning 419 scammers."

Flora stared.

Jordan fidgeted. "Well, thirty-three.  One of the checks didn't arrive yet." Turning her attention back to her purchases, she picked up one of the larger shipping boxes and began carrying it upstairs.  "If anyone calls asking for the exiled Dutchess of Welshire just act like you're my butler."

"So you're saying I should act normally, then."

"You got it."

She let out a short laugh, trudging into the living room before falling into the closest seat, staring at the ceiling.  One of these days she would have to ask Jordan how she managed to pull off such grand schemes.  But not now.  Now she wanted to do nothing.  Nothing sounded like an excellent plan.

Flora scraped at the heel of one of her shoes with the toe of the other in an attempt to remove them with as little effort as possible.  She had been standing all day, and while she had merely been uncomfortable before, her shoes were starting to crush her feet.  She dragged both her heels along the floor a few times before her footwear popped off, the pressure instantly abating.

Sighing, she wiggled her toes.  Her feet were stiff, she thought.  Perhaps Jordan purchased a remote massager while she was at it.  That would entail speaking and possibly standing up, however, and she didn't want to waste energy doing either.  Especially since, for some strange reason, her pantyhose were beginning to feel tight around her feet.  She tugged at it alongside her leg, hoping she could fix the problem with the minimum amount of effort possible, and a second later she heard it rip and a cool wave of air blew against her toes.

She looked down and went wide-eyed at the sight: Puffy toes poking out of her pantyhose, resting atop her bloated feet.  A second later there was another surge of growth, then another, her toes filling into balls as her feet grew longer and wider, rounding out in a steady rhythm.

Flora stared, transfixed by the sudden growth before shaking herself out of her reverie and quickly pushing herself up.  As soon as she put her weight on her feet, however, the air inside of them shifted, and she struggled to maintain her balance before falling back into her seat.  By now they were over twice their normal size, and there was a barely audible "puff" that accompanied each influx of air.

Edging forward in the chair, she moved into a crouching position, balancing precariously on the cushions of her feet as she carefully stood up, spread-legged.  She slid one leg forward, then the other, advancing towards the kitchen in a painfully slow shuffle, the sides of her feet brushing and bouncing against each other as they continued to swell.  She must have looked ridiculous and didn't have a plan for when she reached her destination, but it was better than sitting around doing nothing.

As she continued her trek a softball-sized toe bumped into the leg of the table, rebounding harmlessly but sending Flora into a fit of arm-waving as she struggled to keep her balance.  No sooner did she come to rest than she heard the puffing grow louder and more frequent, her skin vibrating in time as she grew even faster.

She redoubled her efforts, shuffling forward on two growing pillows that were slowly but surely lifting her upward.  The living room, once airy and open, now seemed narrow and awkward to navigate.  Movement became more and more difficult as her legs were forced apart by her inflated feet, until finally they had grown so large that it was all she could do to remain standing.

Immobilized by her own feet - bloated with air, as long as she was tall and growing larger by the second - Flora was left with only one option. "Jordan!"

"One second!" she shouted back. "This thing is being dumb!"

Flora looked up, noting that the ceiling was closer than it was a few moments ago.  In front of her a toe, now grown to basketball size, slowly pressed into the sofa in its quest for space. "Jordan!  This is important!"

"Fiiiiine."  A few seconds later she stomped down the stairs, walking into the living room. "I think this stupid remote foot pump is defective," she said, distracted by the device in her hands. "It won't-"

Tripping over something soft and round, Jordan fell forward onto something soft and flesh-toned and wondered why she landed on a novelty queen size mattress shaped like a pair of massively, cartoonishly over-inflated feet.  Then she looked up and realized it was attached to a pair of legs, themselves in turn attached to an unhappy-looking Flora.  She glanced at the device in her hands, then at Flora, then at Flora's feet, then at the device again before gently turning it off, the puffing suddenly coming to a stop.

"You know," Jordan said, "I probably should have seen this coming."